


But Maybe It’s Cause I’m Wearing Your Cologne

by errantwheat



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Basically Nines is a criminal au, Because Gavin Reed makes bad decisions, Enemies to Lovers, I thought it was gonna be a slow burn but it’s a fast burn, M/M, just a little, no tags of any importance yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-01-23 18:30:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18555382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/errantwheat/pseuds/errantwheat
Summary: Before the words ‘Jesus fuck, watch where you’re fucking going, dickhead,’ could even fully form in his brain he heard, “oh, I’m sorry, are you alright?” In a freakishly familiar, way too coincidental voice.“Connor? The fuck?”The RK900 android woke up and decided he’d like to spend his deviancy in a different line of work than originally intended.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You thought I wouldn’t, I thought I wouldn’t, but here it is! I’ll try to write fast, this should be a short one, but hopefully spicy!

To say that Gavin felt out of place in this house was the understatement of the fucking century. Marble floors, floral wallpaper, vaulted ceilings, crystal chandeliers— ‘ _open concept_ ’ he could practically hear some rich thirty-year-old house-flipper on HGTV saying, and every other fucking thing was gilded. 

He was here investigating a theft, _of course,_ the fuck else could happen in a place like this? The call had come in at like 3 am the night before and Gavin had to drive his happy ass all the way to the rich-fuck part of town first thing in the god damn morning to hear this hysterical old man complain about just how much that painting was worth. 

Anderson and his boy-toy were on the way because the whole situation just screamed of either foul-play or android involvement, and if it was the second one, it was their bullshit to deal with. Gavin didn’t _like_ just handing over cases, but better it fuck up their record than his. 

It was about ten when they showed up, which was why Anderson looked half the fuck asleep. But better than he looked any other time Gavin had seen him at ten in the morning, he had to admit. 

It was a little fucking weird, and definitely not something Gavin would ever let himself dwell on or even admit to thinking, but Anderson was looking more and more like the person he used to respect and look up to lately.

Because Connor could quit this gig and join the Queer Eye squad at any moment, apparently. 

“Hi Connie,” Gavin greeted, because early mornings did nothing to inhibit his Bastard Impulse. He’d discovered that calling Connor ‘Connie’ annoyed the living shit out of him. Right on cue, his polite smile looked a little more strained. Score one for Reed already. Nice. 

“Good morning, Detective. I hope you’re well today.” 

“No you fuckin’ don’t, don’t lie,” Hank groused, sauntering along behind Connor with his hands shoved in his pockets like a cranky little kid.

“I’m just fuckin’ peachy, Connie,” Gavin ignored Hank and gestured with the datapad in his hand at the blank spot on the wall where their client’s painting used to be. 

“Got a burglary. No signs of forced entry or exit in all one-fucking-billion rooms of this place, no prints, victim’s useless, and this surveillance footage is fucked.” Gavin tilted the datapad so they could see. There were cameras hidden in some of the lightbulbs around the house and all the ones in view of the painting were blinking black and white with headache inducing speed. 

“Either this guy’s trying to frame somebody or the world’s got android burglars now.” Just what they needed, right? Virtually untraceable criminals? Gavin glanced to Anderson for some sympathy but he’d forgotten there was pretty much none to be found there anymore, cause he was banging robo-twink now. Taking the whole ‘fuckin’ androids’ line to whole new levels. 

Connor regarded the video for a moment and then tilted his head. “Detective, would you mind replaying the footage?” 

Gavin shrugged and obliged him as Hank wandered off to go size the house up for himself. Why the fuck Connor would wanna see the footage again Gavin didn’t know, it was busted, but far be it from him to question a supercomputer on legs. He was paid by the hour, anyway. Connor watched the recording for a second and then frowned and restarted it again, and this time Gavin could see it too, now that he was paying attention. It wasn’t just random glitchy blinking, it was repeating. It was a pattern.

“This is almost certainly morse code,” Connor announced, lightly touching the datapad. As he did his skin disappeared just past the first knuckle of his fingers, revealing the white plastic and mechanical joints, and the video restarted again but this time it played slower. 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” alright, _now_ Gavin was kind of interested. “What’s it saying?” 

Hank came back and peered at the datapad with them, narrowing his eyes. 

“Nothing comprehensible,” Connor replied, “I believe it translates to strings in binary, I should be able to—“ he paused and blinked for a second and his little light thingy turned yellow. Gavin glanced at Anderson and raised his eyebrows, but Anderson just shrugged. Jesus, he’d gotten so much chiller about all these little weird android things. He was so fucked when they all went crazy and eradicated humanity or whatever. Poor bastard.

“There’s been another call about a missing android,” Connor informed them when his light thingy was blue again. He looked regretfully down at the datapad, giving it those puppy eyes like he wanted to guilt it into saying, ‘ _the other case can wait, it’s okay, solve me!_ ’ 

Gavin was completely immune to the puppy eyes, unlike every other fucking tool with a badge apparently. The only reason he said, “I’ll get the report started on this one, fuck off already,” was because he was kind of intrigued by this case. Who the fuck leaves behind a coded message at a burglary? 

He couldn’t picture it being for the victim. Mr. Summers seemed too timid to make enemies. There was no reason to make it so cryptic if it was a ransom note, that’d just make getting paid take longer. And the blinking had been so fast, the only reason they figured out it was a code was because of Connor and his robot eyes. 

Gavin stopped for a coffee on the way back to the station, cause his headache was telling him it was about damn time. There was a little cart on the sidewalk a few blocks away from the station that was a million times better than starbucks and whatever shit keurig cups the station kept stocked any fucking day of the week. 

Was the message supposed to be for Connor? Connor was kind of a public figure, like it or not, after getting involved with the whole android revolution. Was the theft just to get his attention? Maybe it was related to all the missing android cases they’d been getting recently— but why would an android be kidnapping androids?

It was sort of a character flaw of Gavin’s, among quite a few others, that he got too focused on shit. That’s why he ordered and paid for his coffee on auto pilot, and promptly turned around and walked right into somebody passing on the street, dropping his precious cup on the ground along with the datapad for the case, but fortunately nowhere near each other. 

Before the words ‘ _Jesus fuck, watch where you’re fucking going, dickhead,_ ’ could even fully form in his brain he heard, “oh, I’m sorry, are you alright?” In a freakishly familiar, way too coincidental voice. 

“Connor? The fuck?” 

Connor but with way better fashion sense looked at Gavin for just a second and then cracked the most fucking _heart-stopping_ smile, and pulled his sunglasses off and _holy shit_ , his eyes were blue and not brown and this was _so_ _not_ Connor. 

“I’m afraid not,” Not-Connor said. He sounded a little different too. “I hope you aren’t too terribly disappointed.” 

And to be fair, Connor was hot. Inarguably a ten. But this Connor was _hot_. This Connor had like, fuck energy. This Connor _fucked_. “No, no, I just uh—“ Gavin fumbled to gather his fucking braincells as Hotter-Connor bent to pick up his datapad for him. Was he taller than Connor too? He was absolutely taller than Connor, _Jesus_. “I work with him. With Connor.” 

Hotter-Connor’s LED spun yellow just once as he handed Gavin’s datapad back. Doing a scanny-thingy, obviously. “Detective Gavin Reed. It’s a delight to meet you, though I regret the circumstances...” he glanced down a little forlornly at Gavin’s poor coffee, “might I replace that for you?”

He stepped around Gavin without really waiting for an answer and paid for the coffee that the girl at the counter— her name was Cindy— had already made up upon witnessing this little scene. 

Gavin accepted the coffee in half a fucking daze. He realized the irony of shoving Connor around for a coffee when they’d first met and then accepting one from his clone like it was a gift from God himself. But this was like, different. This Connor was _different_. 

“Well, I should be going. Do tell Connor hello for me,” Hotter-Connor hummed, slipping his sunglasses on again. Were those fucking _Cartier_? _Jesus_ , what the fuck did Hotter-Connor do for a living? And was he looking for a sugar baby? 

“You two, uh, know each other?” Gavin asked, hardly registering how fucking hot his coffee was as he took a sip. He hoped the answer was yes, because he needed fucking _details_. 

“I expect we’ll become acquainted rather soon. Perhaps you and I will see more of each other as well.” Oh, He said that last bit with a _tone_. That was an awfully promising tone. “Until then, Detective.” Hotter-Connor waved fondly over his shoulder as he walked off. _God_ , those _legs_. Gavin had a _thing_ for legs like that. 

“You’re a disaster,” Cindy quipped behind Gavin, loudly turning the page of her magazine. 

“Eat me, Cindy.” Gavin flipped her off and took another fucking scalding sip of coffee. 

By the time he got back to the station his head was mostly clear. Except for the part where he kept re-typing the same three lines of his report, and hearing ‘ _until then, Detective_ ,’ ringing through his head and craving a fucking cigarette. 

Alright, okay, so fuck writing for now. He’d just register the evidence so the office lovebirds could get at it, go have a smoke, and write the shit after. 

Gavin pulled up all the files on the datapad. It was just notes, pictures of the painting and  where it used to be in the house, a bunch of other shit like the victim’s profile, the house’s floor plan, and the video. 

And one more thing. 

That one more thing didn’t have a title. It was just a little video file icon. 

Gavin stared at it for a second, thoroughly convinced it hadn’t been there before. And then he opened it. 

He had to turn the screen’s brightness up all the way to see what it showed. It was just a dark room— a concrete floor, brick wall, low ceiling. Gavin could just make out the grainy corner of what looked like a hatch door at one edge of the frame. But the main focus was a set of numbers and letters spray painted in white on the wall. 

 

“And you’re certain it wasn’t there before?” 

“I’m not fuckin’ stupid—“

“Jury’s still out on that one—“

“Fuck off, Anderson. I’m tellin’ you, it just showed up.” 

Connor frowned down at the datapad, playing the mysterious new video again. “Has anybody else had access to this datapad since we last saw it?” He asked, LED spinning, which hit Gavin hard with some deja vu, and then a fucking epiphany. 

“Holy shit, I ran into your fucking clone on the way back, like, an android that looked _just_ like you—“

“What the fuck? And you just handed him the fuckin’ thing? Jesus, Reed—“

“ _No_ , jackass,” Gavin snapped, “I dropped it and he handed it back to me.” That didn’t sound a whole lot better, given the unimpressed look Anderson was giving him. Fair. Gavin gave him the finger anyway.

“Can you tell me more about this...other me?” Connor asked, looking beyond confused and more concerned now. Probably rightfully so. Gavin had heard Anderson recount how another Connor had tricked him and held him hostage. He didn’t know why the fuck he hadn’t thought of that when he’d seen this one. Well, he did know why, actually, he’d been distracted by all the fuck energy. But he wasn’t gonna tell these two that. 

“He looked just like you but uh...with blue eyes and like, taller I think,” _and hotter_. “Asked me to say hi to you.” 

“For fuck’s sake, Reed.” Anderson tossed his hands up, “None of that seemed suspicious to you?” 

“I swear to god, Anderson—“ 

“We should contact Jericho immediately,” Connor cut in again, passing the datapad back to Gavin. “All the androids remaining in storage at CyberLife were activated and freed under Markus’s orders. There’s a chance they might be able to help us locate this other RK800.” 

Connor turned to leave with Anderson in tow but paused at the door and looked back at Gavin. “You should be careful, Detective. Please contact us if you encounter this other RK800 again.” 

“Sure thing, Tin Can,” Gavin waved them off, feeling just a _touch_ shaken. And pissed at himself. If he had just kept his fucking _dick_ under control he would have realized how suspicious that whole situation had been. Androids didn’t just _walk into people_ , for fuck’s sake. 

At least they had a suspect now. That was something they sure hadn’t had that morning. But that was just as concerning as it was a victory. The other Connor— Gavin wasn’t gonna fucking call him Hotter-Connor anymore, he was _over it_ — he’d pretty much given the whole game away already, hadn't he? But it couldn’t be that easy, he was fucking with them somehow. 

Gavin tried to like, focus on other shit, because technically this wasn’t his case, but he couldn’t keep his mind off of it. Finally he just clocked out a little early, smoked a cigarette, and headed off to the nearest bar, texting Tina to see if she’d meet him there. It was a Friday night, after all. There was no better way to spend a Friday night than getting trashed with Tina Chen. 

He was waiting at the bar, a whiskey and a half in when he got Tina’s text that she was on a date. He shot her back a couple eyes emojis, thinking of the receptionist at the station she liked to chat up at literally every given opportunity. Not even Chen was immune to android-fever, fuck. 

Gavin apparently wasn’t as immune as he’d thought, either, and the booze sure weren’t helping. It had him so deep in thought about those fucking _legs_ , and that _smile_ and that _voice_ , that he thought he’d fantasized it at first when he heard “Detective, what a lovely coincidence,” behind him.

But he’d most definitely actually heard that. It super wasn’t in his head. 

Which was objectively worse. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you really call this a slowburn with only 3 chapters

“Do you mind if I sit?” Not-Connor asked mildly, gesturing to the stool at the bar next to Gavin’s. 

He was just as drop-dead fucking gorgeous as he’d been before, but it didn’t get to Gavin this time. He wouldn’t let it. He didn’t drool over criminals. 

“Sure. Free country. Even for you now,” Gavin muttered over the rim of his glass, sizing the bastard up like he could read his intentions from the tiny details. All he was actually getting was pure nourishment for his thirsting fucking eyes. Fitted shirt, perfect hair, perfect, _perfect_ face. So maybe he did drool over criminals. A little bit. 

Connor would sit perfectly straight and fold his hands in his lap like a complete nark. This bitch knew how to  _sit at a bar._  Not the ‘ _I’m just here to get drunk, don’t fuck with me_ ’ sit either, this was the ‘ _eye fuck me across the bar, buy me a drink and_   _ask me to meet you in the bathroom_ ’ sit.

“You’re free to put these on, too,” Gavin added, dropping his handcuffs on the bar. To his credit, the Android didn’t flinch. He just raised one brow, his mouth slowly pulling into a smile. Gavin caught himself watching it like it was a fucking strip tease. 

“Am I being propositioned or arrested?” Not-Connor asked, his voice as far from worried as it could possibly be. 

That made Gavin slow down and think for a second. A normal person falsely accused would be offended and upset, or at least confused. A guilty person would pretend to be the same. This fucking psycho was treating it like a joke. He was confident that even if he got arrested, they couldn’t prove he did shit, because they didn’t have all the pieces to the puzzle yet and he knew it. He was playing a fucking game. And Gavin certainly wasn’t drunk, a whiskey and a half wouldn’t do that to him, but he wasn’t quite sober either, and something in his not-drunk, not-sober brain said ‘ _alright, cool guy, I can play too_.’ 

So he said, “depends. Did you fuck with the evidence I had with me today?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the android hummed, idly tracing the curve of the handcuffs still on the table with one finger. Gavin finished his drink just to do something other than stare at those hands. They were _really_ nice hands. 

“Sure you don’t. I didn’t get your name before, by the way. Better be something cooler than Connor.” 

“I’m afraid I have to disappoint you again, Detective. I don’t have a name.” Gavin raised his eyebrows and Not-Connor went on, “I’m an RK900, a prototype upgrade to the Connor model you’re familiar with. I was never officially activated, so they never gave me a name.” 

“Upgrade huh?” Gavin gave the android a very obvious once-over. “Looks about right.” How his brain chose to justify the leap from just playing along to shamelessly flirting, Gavin didn’t know. And he didn’t wanna know. 

It was working, anyway. Not-Connor gave him another downright sinful smile for it. So the pretty robot liked compliments, huh? Go figure. Gavin could work with that.

“What’s a prototype upgrade doing in a place like this?” Priority number one was figuring out what the fuck the RK900 wanted. Gavin couldn’t afford to slip up first and give it to him. God, RK900 was a mouthful to even fucking think. 

“I was bored,” the RK900 replied simply, letting his eyes slowly wander the bar. A loaded fucking answer to a loaded fucking question. 

“What kinda fun were you looking for?” 

The RK900 glanced sideways at Gavin all coy. “I haven’t decided yet. To be honest, I’m still rather inexperienced regarding fun...” 

Gavin could practically hear alarm bells ringing in his head as the words, “oh yeah? I can teach you a thing or two,” fell out of his mouth before his brain could round them up and fucking throttle them. 

 

Anyway that’s how he ended up smoking a cigarette in bed, feeling fucked out and incredible while a god damn _android criminal_ pressed cheeky little kisses to the sensitive new hickeys blooming on his neck and shoulders. Gavin took a long drag, hoping he could just burn out his last few braincells before they could process what the fucking hell he’d just done and promptly die on their own. 

To be fair, he had been kind of in the mood for a hookup anyway, so that was like, a plus. He’d just unfortunately picked the prime fucking suspect in the burglary of a painting worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. 

Honestly? It had been fucking worth it and he didn’t feel bad. Not even a little bit. He totally wasn’t having an entire moral crisis about it in the back of his head. Except that he was.

“I understand it’s customary to vanish before morning after these types of encounters,” the RK900 muttered against Gavin’s skin, just as unaffected as before. He sounded amused and fond and Gavin was trying really fucking hard not to let it stir up god damn butterflies in his guts. “Would you prefer I do that now or while you’re sleeping?” 

Gavin definitely absolutely one-hundred-percent should not leave a fucking android criminal unattended in his apartment. 

So logically he put out his cigarette in the ashtray by the bed and then moved to straddle the android’s lap. God, his skin was so warm and perfect and Gavin couldn’t get enough of touching it. And when they kissed, fuck, his brain would just melt. 

“So later, then,” RK900 muttered against his lips, a laugh in his voices. Then he dragged a hand through Gavin’s hair, pushing it out of his face, and asked, “do you need anything? A drink? Another cigarette?” 

And that did some shit to Gavin. It made him go ‘ _aw_ ’ on the inside and think ‘ _hey, maybe this asshole isn’t so bad_.’ Which was an extremely dangerous thought that fit right into place with all the other extremely dangerous thoughts that had plagued him for the last 24 hours. 

“Nah, just...c’mere,” Gavin laid down and pulled the android along with him. He was even good at being a pillow, the bastard. 

He had a heartbeat. Gavin didn’t know why that surprised him. He remembered how they’d talked about the whole thirium thing on the news for ages after the first androids were released. It was just different to  _hear_  it. He didn’t really know what else he was expecting, maybe more computer noises. RK900 was even breathing, and Gavin didn’t know if he really needed to or if he was only doing it because Gavin was close enough to notice. “Do you need to like, sleep?” He asked, half-absently, because all this was making him curious. 

“I can, in a manner of speaking. Although...” the android’s fingers were moving through Gavin’s hair, it felt  _really_  fucking nice. “I hope you don’t mind that I’d rather look at you for a little longer first.

“Oh.”  _Oh_ , holy fucking  _Christ_ , what the  _fuck_. Gavin’s face felt like it was on fucking fire. “Cool.” 

 

Gavin got a good like, seven minutes of snoozing in the next morning before he bolted upright in bed and scrambled around his apartment checking that everything remotely valuable was still in place, tripping over his cats the whole way. That’s how he found the coffee and breakfast, complete with cutlery and condiments, sitting neatly on his kitchen table. It was a flawlessly fluffy looking omelet, still warm. 

_And_ the cats’ food bowls had been filled. 

He decided not to fucking think about it. Gavin ate his breakfast and drank his coffee and took his shower and went to work and he didn’t think about it. If he didn’t think about it it didn’t fucking happen. 

It was pretty fucking impossible not to think about it when he was working on _the case_ , though. He started to get paranoid. What was the android trying to accomplish by fucking him? What was he after? Had he found it? Gavin had gotten nothing out of that whole encounter. Well, nothing but great sex. Maybe the RK900 was really trying to fuck with Gavin’s head, throw him off so he’d miss something and fail to solve the case. 

Gavin super had to think of something other than RK900 to call him.

No, no the fuck he didn’t. Unless it was _criminal fucking scum_. Because he was almost certainly the perp. The thoughtful breakfast was a _lie_. 

Coffee. Gavin needed to go get a coffee, smoke a cigarette, clear his head, and solve this stupid fucking case.

While he was waiting for the coffee maker to go through its customary one-thousand years to produce one fucking cup, Gavin scrolled through his phone for anything to distract himself. There was pretty much nothing— nobody he was subscribed to on YouTube had dropped anything new, his twitter feed was dead, none of the games he’d played a million times had updated. He got a text notification and opened it reflexively, expecting it to be from Tina because who the fuck else did he talk to? 

**313 248 317 - 87**

How did you find breakfast? Enjoyable?

Gavin took his coffee only to abandon it on his desk in favor of marching right outside for a cigarette. 

He only hesitated for a second, staring down at the text and feeling just a touch of a tremor in his hands before he hit the call button.

“How the fuck did you get my phone number?” Gavin demanded the fucking instant the asshole picked up. 

“ _I had assumed you would like a convenient way to solicit my attention_ ,” god, he sounded so fucking entertained. Gavin could picture the smirk on his face, which was a mistake, because now Gavin couldn’t stop thinking of his stupid pretty face. “ _Or did I misjudge your enthusiasm?”_  

“You’re the prime fucking suspect in a burglary,” Gavin hissed into the phone, looking around to make sure nobody else was nearby. This was career-ending levels of fucked up. 

“ _In that case your method of investigation was extremely unorthodox_. _But quite delightful_.”

“Fuck off. Next time I see your ass I’m bringing you in for questioning.” Fuck, Gavin had been so fucking stupid. He should have just arrested the bastard when he’d had the chance. 

“ _How does tomorrow at seven sound, then?_ ” 

“You fucking— what?” 

“ _I rather enjoyed last night and I’d like to see you again. I wonder if you might let me treat you to dinner? Or just drinks, if you’d prefer._ ” 

What the fuck. What the fuck? What the _fuck_. Gavin could feel his face absolutely burning. “You’re fuckin’ crazy. Lose my fucking number and—“ 

“Ah, there you are, Detective.”

Gavin’s caffeine-addled heart nearly fucking stopped, hearing that voice so close to him all of a sudden. He hung up the phone and turned around, barely restraining himself from drawing his gun.

“ _Jesus_ _fucking_ _Christ_ , we should make you wear a bell.” It was just Connor, of course it was just Connor. Gavin took a drag of his cigarette and leaned back against the wall, trying to look as not-guilty as possible. Totally hadn’t just been on the phone with a fucking criminal. Super didn’t sleep with him last night either. What would make anybody think he’d done something that fucking stupid? “The fuck do you want?” 

“I thought you might like an update on the Summers case.” Connor gestured toward the station entrance and Gavin shrugged off the wall, put out his cigarette and followed. 

“I was able to interpret the message left on the security footage. It led to a trail of two-hundred and sixty-eight increasingly obscure encoded messages. I must admit I actually rather enjoyed the mental exercise— at one point there were time-stamps and episode numbers from the Gilmore Girls series. The number or first letter of the word spoken at those time-stamps became a group of hex codes, and once the corresponding colors were arranged in a grid pattern—“ 

“Jesus, _alright_ , nerd. Get to the important shit.” fuck, Connor having this much fun with work was giving Gavin a pity flavored headache. How badly this loser needed a life was a great distraction from Gavin’s massive fuck up, though. 

Connor led Gavin to his desk and touched the terminal. The internet browser opened itself and a link pasted itself into the search bar, but it only returned a 404 error. “This hyperlink was at the end of the trail, however parts of it are missing.” The internet browser closed and a document opened, showing the link but separated into groups of numbers and letters in threes and twos. Four spots were blank, like Connor had said. 

“The code you received yesterday doesn’t fit,” Connor explained, sounding disappointed, “and Markus was unable to provide us with any useful information concerning the RK800 you encountered. I’m afraid we can’t proceed without these missing variables, though I suspect he’ll offer us another clue before too long.” 

Another clue. Maybe that’s the real reason he wanted to see Gavin again, or maybe that’s what he was doing last night. Gavin tried to think where he’d heard or seen random numbers and letters recently.

“I think he’s...having fun. That’s the only explanation I can imagine for why he’s actively trying to be caught, leaving a trail like this,” Connor mused to himself while Gavin wracked his brain. “Our model is the most advanced CyberLife ever created, theoretically we’re each the only one capable of outsmarting the other. It’s like a game.” 

Gavin’s brain caught on the word model and he thought of the phone number from this morning. It wasn’t a normal US phone number, it was an android serial number. Four groups of numbers in threes and twos, it would fit. 

But fuck, he’d have to come up with an explanation for why he knew the number. It wasn’t some shit he could just guess.

Solving the case was more important than saving face, though, Gavin resolved as he sat down at the terminal and plugged in the numbers. Fuck, he wanted another cigarette. 

“Try uh— try that.” He muttered, shrugging one shoulder at the terminal. Connor looked between him and it for a second, frowning, and then compiled the hyperlink and dropped it in the search bar. 

What came up was a video. It was the surveillance footage from Mr. Summers’s house, but this time intact. Gavin watched the screen, his chest tight with anticipation. 

There was RK900, strutting into view and casually plucking the painting off the wall. He looked up at the camera and it was fucking unsettling to see his calm, slightly smug face but hear Mr. Summer’s frantic voice come out as he spoke, his LED blinking. 

_Hello? Police? I’ve been robbed._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
